


Lay Down Your Arms

by Lexebug



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Neglect, F/F, F/M, M/M, Recovery, Relapsing, Song Lyrics, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 11:52:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13410699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexebug/pseuds/Lexebug
Summary: Roxy Lalonde has a problem.





	Lay Down Your Arms

**Author's Note:**

> hhhhhh i actually really like this??? coolio here we go its not long but i wrote it okay  
> Based on 21 Guns by Greenday

_Do you know what’s worth fighting for?_  
Roxy, freshly thirteen, stared at her newly carved plaque resting gently in her hands. With trembling fingers, she reached for the celebratory drink; old wine, in a cracked, fragile wine glass. Cradling the bowl with two hands, she sipped at it gently, like her mother might be proud of her for making it this far in life. To enjoy the wine her mother had stored here, all those years ago. So she sat and pondered her life thus far as she slowly drained the dark red wine. 

_When it’s not worth dying for?_  
Roxy, thirteen and a half years old, poured herself a third glass of vodka. She sipped at it, grimacing at the taste. Her mom had mixed it with other things; juice, other, better-tasting alcohol. But she didn’t know where any of that was now, so who cared? She was trying to forget, get at least a touch of a buzz. She could push past the taste. She screwed her eyes up and drained the glass.

 _Does it take your breath away, and you feel yourself suffocating?_  
Roxy snapped the birthday hat string on her chin, running the tips of her shaky fingers across her keyboard before typing a speedy message to Jane. Frigglish curled himself around her neck, purring, and Roxy made her best impression of a purr back before picking up the glass again, taking a huge swig. She was definitely funnier when she was drunk, so she drank before important messages, and on special days. Today was both of those! She giggled and raised her glass in a toast to nobody, nobody but herself.

 _Does the pain wear out the pride?_  
Roxy, fourteen and a half, has pushed her limits. She knelt over the bowl of her toilet, gasping for air. Frigglish sat outside the door, meowing anxiously and scratching. Roxy curled herself up on the cold tile, taking in quick, trembling breaths. A voice crackled to life in her ear, achingly familiar. “Ro-lal? Are you there?” Roxy groaned, digging the heels of her hands into her eyes. “You left your mic on, and you sound distressed! Are you okay?” Jane’s voice filtered through with barely any static, thanks to the Batterwitch’s superior technology.  
“Oh hell yeah Janey, I’m doin’ fine! Don’t worry your cute li’l tush about it, mmkay? I just felt sick for a second, didn’t realize I left my mic on.” She blinked away tears as Jane sighed in relief, and Roxy could hear the smile in her voice when she next spoke.  
“Okay, good! I got worried for a second. Pester me if you feel sick or something, okay?” Roxy gave a hum of affirmation, and Jane disconnected, leaving Roxy alone on her bathroom floor with tears streaming down her face. Her head was pounding, her stomach was practically rolling, and she just wanted to sleep. So she curled into the fetal position and willed herself to sleep, so she could just forget this was happening.

 _And you look for a place to hide?_  
Roxy was fifteen, and was mostly sober for what would be the last time for at least a year. She was also only sober because she had a killer hangover, and was laying in bed with Frigglish, a pillow pressed to her face. Her computer pinged and she groaned, crawling out of bed to flop into the seat. Dirk wanted to video chat, and she reluctantly agreed, swaddling herself in the blanket she’d dragged with her. “Geez, Roxy, you look like shit,” he announced as soon as she accepted her call, and she rolled her eyes.  
“Nice to see you too, dickhole. Why did you want to call? I’m cool with just Pesterin’, you know, plus my throat is killing me.” Hal’s red text scrolled across the bottom of the screen, reading ‘I also think you look like shit.’ Roxy glared into Dirk’s shades.  
“Seriously, you need to stop drinking. Consider this an intervention from me, Hal, and your own goddamn body. You look like you haven’t slept in a year.” He was closer than he thought; Roxy hadn’t gotten more than four hours of sleep a night since she was fourteen. She shrugged his concerns off, waving a nonchalant hand.  
“It’s fiiine, Dirky-Dirk! I’m in full control of all my mental capacities, pretty sure this is jus’ like… the flu, or something.” Dirk looked at her skeptically, and Hal’s text loaded across the middle of the screen now, where she couldn’t ignore it.  
‘You are definitely not in control right now. This is a hangover, Roxy.’ She scoffed, spinning once in her chair before stopping at the wave of pain in her head.  
“Whatever. Maybe you guys don’t believe me, but if you must know, I have partaken in one, ONE, drink. I am completely controlled. Now, I’m gonna go take a nap to sleep off this han-I mean flu. This illness. Yeah.” Dirk’s eyebrows seemed to be creased with concern, but Roxy was having trouble seeing clearly, so it might have been just her. She disconnected the call, muting her computer as Hal started non-stop Pestering her. She changed her mood to Rancorous and went to lay on her bed, nuzzling gratefully into Frigglish’s soft fur. She took a swig from the bottle of vodka next to her bed, before dozing off into an uneasy sleep.

 _Did someone break your heart inside?_  
Roxy, fifteen and a half, was drunk and crying. A typical night for her, but tonight was significantly worse. Dirk had spent the last hour gushing about Jake, about how cute he was, about how he finally knew what love what love was like. She didn’t have the heart to tell him she’d already known what love felt like, instead pretending to be interested, to support her best friend in his romantic interests. But on the other side of the computer, after making sure her mic was off, she was sobbing in between chugs from a bottle of white wine. Dirk left speedily after Jake started Pestering him, leaving Roxy tipsy and alone. Again.  
How dare he be that cute? That lovable and adorable, that fucking endearing. And he didn’t even know it. Nobody knew it. Jake didn’t know what he was missing, didn’t even begin to comprehend the kind of love he was missing out on from Dirk. Would Dirk ever love her like that? She scrubbed at her eyes and took another drink.

 _You’re in ruins_  
Roxy’s sixteenth birthday was, as always, a lonely affair. Texts from her friends, Frigglish running around her room joyously, a bottle of Scotch all to herself. “Happy birthday to me,” she sighed, tilting the bottle in no particular direction before taking a swig. After half an hour of this routine, complemented by some poorly-done coding, she decided she wasn’t gonna be fucking lonely, it was her birthday, so she called Jane. It wasn’t until her friend picked up the call and gasped that Roxy remembered the state she was in.  
It had been a few days since she had showered-a week? Two? She couldn’t remember-and her face was stiff and sticky with tear tracks. Her lips were chapped as hell, her face picked raw by absent fingernails, her hair greasy and matted in various places. “Roxy! What happened to you?” Jane asked, voice flooded with concern, and Roxy’s heart sank as tears sparked in her eyes.  
“Just been a tough couple days, Janey.” Days. Weeks. Months, maybe? “I’m-a gonna be a-okay, I promise!!” She paused, gathering herself, trying to ignore the crumpled look on Jane’s face. “Hey, did you know, I love you a looot? You’re just-you’re such a good friend, Jane, why you gotta live so far away?” Normally, Jane would chuckle at this sort of thing, but now she just gazed with growing concern at Roxy.  
“You can’t keep doing this, Roxy.”  
“Doing what?” Roxy yelled, taking another drink from the bottle clenched in her fist.  
“Drinking! You’re drinking yourself to death, Ro-Lal, and I can’t deal with losing you! Please, for your own safety: stop. At least try and stop. Please.” There were tears in Jane’s eyes now, and Roxy had to scramble to put the bottle down without dropping it.  
“Nooo, Janey, don’t cry, don’t cry, please. I’ll stop. I won’t do it anymore. I promise.” But the words were trembly, and Roxy knew as soon as they were out that she wouldn’t keep that promise. Jane gave a watery laugh, bitter and biting.  
“We both know that won’t last long, don’t we?” Roxy stared, dumbfounded. Jane wiped tears from her eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath. “Goodbye, Roxy. Happy birthday. Call me back when you’re sober, okay?” She disconnected, leaving Roxy alone in her room.  
Roxy didn’t drink any more that night. She didn’t eat. She didn’t cry. She sat in her computer chair and stared at her now-black screen, and wondered how she managed to fuck it all up this badly.

 _One, twenty-one guns, lay down your arms, give up the fight_  
She had things to do. Roxy Lalonde was sixteen years old, and it was a new day, and she wanted to try again. She wanted to do better. She stepped into the shower and scrubbed her entire body four times over until her hair was shiny and clean, ad she smelled like a Bath and Body Works had puked on her. Cleaning came next; she made her bed, tossed the empty bottles and napkins into her trash can, swept everything off her desk and reorganized it all. She vacuumed while Frigglish hid under the bed, and sang the old songs she barely remembered as she wiped her windows and opened them to get a fresh breath of air. Next was the hard part.  
Carefully, she gathered up all the loose, half-empty bottles of alcohol scattered around her house. Stepping to the window, she looked out over the afternoon sun and braced herself. Then, she tossed out the first bottle. It fell to the ground below with a satisfying shatter of glass, and she poked her head out to look at the glittering remains. Then she dropped another bottle. And another. And in time she was throwing them out the window and laughing gleefully, letting the bottles smash onto the sidewalk and feeling what she thought might be freedom. She emptied out her stores, all her secret stashes; in the toilet tank, the shower, under her bed, everywhere. She emptied her mother’s cellar of expensive, aged wine that must have been immensely valuable, but turned out to be so much prettier when they were colorful splashes on the concrete below.  
Grabbing her phone, breathing hard, Roxy took a picture of the ground below. She sent it to Jane with the caption “it’s done. I’m starting over.” As soon as she’d read it, Roxy got an incoming video call.  
“Roxy!! Did you really? Did you really throw it all out?” She near-yelled, her eyes bright behind her glasses. Roxy nodded, grinning through a few tears. “Show me! Turn the camera towards it!” Roxy did, pointing out which alcohol was which. The wine, the whiskey, everything. She could hear Jane crying quietly, but there was a smile in her voice.  
“You did it, Roxy. You’re gonna get better.” Roxy nodded, tearfully, and Jane nodded back. “I’m so proud of you.”

 _One, twenty-one guns, throw up your arms, into the sky._  
It had been three years since that day. Roxy had been fully sober for a year straight now, and she and her friends were at a cocktail party. Roxy was drinking orange juice, and didn’t make any sort of attempt to steal a sip from someone else’s glass. Jake and Dirk had, two years ago, moved in with each other, closer to Jane. Roxy stayed on her own until poor Frigglish had died, a tragic accident with a falling ceiling light and a very unlucky cat. After that event triggered a serious relapse, Jane offered Roxy a place to stay, if she’d split rent. She accepted, and moved into the city with her best friend.  
Six months later, Jane kissed her during one of their girl’s nights. Roxy had completely messed up on painting Jane’s nails, but says it was super worth it. Roxy had known she was in love with Jane since a week after her big start to sobriety, when she was prepared to drink hand sanitizer just to try and get a buzz. It took someone else caring about her that much for her to realize, there were other options except for Dirk. There was more love to go around.  
Now, Roxy Lalonde was 19. She was having a party with her very best friends. She was sober and coherent, and holding hands with her girlfriend.  
Maybe she hadn’t fucked everything up, at least not beyond repair.


End file.
